


panic

by optimisticlesbian



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Franky and Boomer are really really sorry, Gen, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28942431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/optimisticlesbian/pseuds/optimisticlesbian
Summary: Bea really, really hates yelling.Or, how Franky and Boomer end up giving Bea all their Tim-Tams and Monte Carlos.
Relationships: Franky Doyle & Bea Smith, Franky Doyle & Sue "Boomer" Jenkins, Liz Birdsworth & Bea Smith
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	panic

"Franky." 

"Franky." 

_ "Fraaaaaaaankyyyyyyy--"  _

The Franky in question slammed shut the notebook she was furiously scribbling in, turning around and finding herself looking at a  _ very  _ self pleased Boomer. 

"What do you want, Booms?" the brunette deadpanned, a spark of all too familiar irritation already starting to burn in her chest. 

"Well, I just wanna talk to ya. You've had your nose in that friggin' thing all day," Boomer whined. 

"Boomer, leave her alone, love. She's busy," Liz called from the other side of the room, stirring a spoonful of honey into her daily afternoon cuppa. 

"What are you even doin' anyway?" Boomer questioned, choosing to ignore Liz's words of wisdom by prodding Franky in the side. 

_ Jesus Christ, _ Franky thought, clenching her jaw and tightening her grip on the pen she was holding.  _ She doesn't stop squawking, I might pull a 'Fresh Meat Bea' on her and stab her in the neck.  _

"It's nothin', really. Just something Ms. Westfall wants me to do for her," Franky murmured, silently praying to whatever higher power above that Boomer would leave her alone and go flick the bean to that elaborate fantasy of hers involving Mr. Fletcher and a can of Crystal Pepsi. 

"Yeah, I bet she wants you to do a lot of things to her, eh?" Boomer cackled, grinding her arse against Franky's shoulder much to the brunette's chagrin. 

"Boomer, I can't _ believe  _ I even have to say this, but please stop having sex with Franky's shoulder," Bea said with a laugh, having just walked into the unit. 

"Oh, you think it's funny, eh?" Franky shouted. "We'll see if you're laughing when  _ you've  _ got someone's sweaty unwashed arse in your face." 

"Did you forget I had a toddler once?" replied the redhead with a chortle, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. 

"Boomer, fuck off. Please," Franky ordered through clenched teeth.  _ She's just a kid,  _ Franky forced herself to think.  _ A really loud annoying kid pushing 30, but still a kid.  _

"Come on, Franky," Boomer cajoled, shaking the brunette by the shoulders. "You know you wanna--" 

_ "I said fuck off!"  _ Franky screamed, throwing the notebook to the ground and shoving Boomer away from her. 

Bea's heart skipped a beat, dread pooling low in her stomach.  _ Shit.  _

"Franky, love," Liz crooned gently, stepping between a shocked Boomer and a furious Franky. "It's alright, she just wants to spend time with you." 

"And I want her to fuck off. Need another recap?" the brunette retorted. 

"You fuck off, Franky! Not my fault you're too busy goin' bumper to bumper with Miss Fancy Tits!" Boomer shouted, Liz's attempts at calming her down with promises of Monte Carlos utterly futile. 

"Fuck," Bea muttered under her breath.  _ It's not at you,  _ she tried to remind herself.  _ No one's mad at you.  _

But her head was pounding with thoughts of  _ him  _ calling her a  _ stupid bitch worthless dumb ugly  _ and shoving her against the wall, to the ground, yanking her hair, making her scream and cry and beg for him to stop. 

And all of a sudden  _ she couldn't breathe-- _

"Red? You alright there?" Franky called. 

No. Red was definitely not alright. 

Not that Franky needed to know that, of course. 

"I-- I'm fine, Franky," Bea stammered out, running her shaking hands through her crimson curls. 

For fuck's sake, she was  _ Top Dog,  _ top dogs weren't supposed to hyperventilate or have numb fingers or feel like their heart was about to burst out of their chest.

Top dogs were supposed to be  _ smart enough _ to know that their pus-hole of a husband was dead, that they couldn't be hurt by that fucking mongrel anymore. 

Top dogs weren't supposed to be having panic attacks. 

"Bea, Bea, you're just having a panic attack, love," Liz said gently, taking Bea by the shoulders and leading her into her cell. 

"I- I fucking know that, Liz," Bea panted, plopping down on her mattress. Liz sat down next to her, taking the redhead's numb, tremulous hands in her own. 

"I need you to try holding your breath for a minute, alright, love? That always helps me calm down," the older woman said, brushing a stray red curl away from Bea's face. 

Bea frantically nodded, chest heaving up and down so quickly it ached and burned all at once. 

"You ready? One, two, three." 

The redhead held her breath for as long as she could, Liz rubbing steady circles on her back. "It's alright," the blonde whispered as Bea's breath came in harsh, raw gasps before slowly settling down. 

"You are  _ so _ far from there, love," Liz crooned. "That will never, ever happen to you again." 

Bea shattered, burying her head in her hands and sobbing uncontrollably. She knew, of course, deep down that  _ he  _ was dead and gone and could never touch her again, but…

Bea was forced out of her thoughts by Franky and Boomer throwing open the door to her cell. 

"Hey, Bea, we're real sorry for scaring you back there," Boomer stammered out, shoving a pack of Monte Carlos in Bea's face. 

"Yeah, it's our mistake. We should've been more careful," Franky said gently, an apologetic grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. She held out a box of Tim-Tams. 

"Don't overwhelm her, you two, give her some breathing room," Liz admonished, waving her hands to clear the two girls out of Bea's cell. 

"No, no, it's alright," Bea called, pinching the bridge of her nose with two fingers. "Don't worry about it, just put 'em on the bed." 

"Sorry again, Red," Franky muttered awkwardly, ushering Boomer out of Bea's cell. 

"I'm gonna go watch a bit of telly, alright? You just call for me if you need something, love," Liz said, giving her a comforting pat on the shoulder and a grin. 

Bea offered her a listless smile as Liz slipped out the door. 

Once Liz was gone, the redhead let out a tremulous, shaking breath and buried her head in her hands again. 

Harry was  _ dead.  _ He was  _ dead,  _ just like she had wanted him to be for years and years.

He could never hurt her again. 

But he still  _ was _ . 

Harry was in every slammed door and slightly too loud voice, every old scar on her body. As much as she didn't want him to be, he would always be a part of her, that last thread connecting Bea to the life she used to have. Mrs. Smith, Debbie's mum, pretty good hairdresser. 

Bea let out another tremulous, cleansing breath before standing up and opening the door to her cell. 

"Hey, Liz? What are you watching?" 


End file.
